I write to refresh myself. Watching my thoughts in ink provides me with an insight into myself to evaluate how am I growing as a human being. I don’t try for perfection. I do chase it though.
I just hope when my daughters grow up – I am still writing
Toys, Chocolates and a CakeFeatured in Children genre.4vote up
Toys, Chocolates and a Cake
As she walked past the toys shop next to the big China Bazaar, she could not but stop herself from having a look into the magical world stitched in fur, assembled in plastic and wood and drawn from the colorful strands of clay. She had never entered the shop and always just stood outside and wondered if these toys do get alive behind closed doors and switched off lights. The of how things which bring smile and happy feelings into everybody could not be full of life was simply rejected by her innocent mind. She had some money and wanted to buy a doll. But she stopped thinking that sooner or later she would grow old for them.Just three or four shops away was this wooden-finish shop with golden lit lights and a sweet aroma that made her stop and almost reach for the change in her pocket. A huge transparent box with numerous partitions, each holding a different variety of chocolate was placed overlooking the large glass door. Some red, some green, some in the shape of small Christmas trees and some just brown. She wet her lips and started moving ahead, hoping that someone might gift her a box in the future. She could then get to know how those things taste.She finally stopped in front of the door of an old bakery shop on the corner of the street almost overwhelmed by the mammoth shopping mall.The shopkeeper asked, “Hello Lady! What can I offer you?”She quietly pointed at the small heart shaped cake with a red topping of three cherries and a white rose on the top. It was almost the right amount she had saved to buy her what she needed.Later in the night, when everybody was asleep and the big clock at the railway station stuck twelve, she got up from her bed. With her best efforts not to wake anybody up, she quietly moved across the hallway with her brown parcel in hands. She stopped in front of a window – the beautiful moon shining in the black velvet sky. With those bright, twinkling stars as her company she lit seven small, colorful candles on the cake and with closed eyes – made a wish.She had a name but no one to relate to. She could not remember any faces other than the matrons and the rest of the children at the orphanage.She hymned slowly as she cut her first birthday cake,”Happy Birthday to me.”